


When Kravitz Met Sildar

by weegee1204



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Kravitz was assigned to hunt Barry, Pre-Canon, only not in the way you'd immediately think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 16:02:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15122966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weegee1204/pseuds/weegee1204
Summary: Throughout all of their meetings, Sildar had seemed well-mannered, level headed, and overall a pretty decent guy— the kind of guy Kravitz wouldn’t mind hanging out with outside of work. Except for the fact that there was huge bounty on Sildar Hallwinter’s head for writing a book that almost single handedly was responsible for the renaissance of necromancy throughout Faerun in the past decade or so. And the fact that Kravitz was the grim reaper assigned to collect this bounty, along with Sildar’s soul.





	When Kravitz Met Sildar

**Author's Note:**

> yeah i really like the idea of kravitz and barry meeting before the events of the show, so this takes place about 10 years after the events of the stolen century (2 years before here there be gerblins). idk how canon compliant it is, but i ain't gonna worry about it! i wrote this during 4 consecutive sleepless nights, so let's see how it turned out huh?

“Is your name Sildar Hallwinter?”

“Yes.”

“What is the book that you’re holding called?”

“It’s called  _ The Planar Connection: A Study on the Passage of Souls To and From the Great Beyond _ .”

“Do you understand what it is about?”

“Simply speaking, it’s a study on the idea that, because souls can be transported from the material plane to the astral plane, they can just as simply be transported back.”

“Who does it say is the author of this book?”

“Sildar Hallwinter.”

“So your name is Sildar Hallwinter, and you recognize and understand this book about necromantic ideas, that was written by a man named Sildar Hallwinter.”

“Yes, that all sounds correct.”

“Then I am here to arrest you for your crimes against the Raven Queen.”

“There’s just one problem.”

“What?”

“I didn’t write this book.”

Kravitz blinked in surprise. He and Sildar stared at each other, the former incredulously, the latter earnestly. The cave they were in was silent, only dispersed by the sound of water sporadically dripping from the stalagtites to the floor.

Finally Kravitz groaned, sinking onto a large stone and placing his head in his hands.

“Okay, tell me where the disconnect is. Really walk me through it, because I thought the two of us just came to a pretty damn clear conclusion right then.”

“I wish I could tell you, bud,” Sildar said, looking not nearly as troubled as Kravitz felt he should be in this situation. The two of them had had an almost civil relationship in their past interactions, and it was obvious that the human no longer felt any aversion toward the reaper. Kravitz almost felt the same; throughout all of their meetings, Sildar had seemed well-mannered, level headed, and overall a pretty decent guy — the kind of guy Kravitz wouldn’t mind hanging out with outside of work.

Except for the fact that there was huge bounty on Sildar Hallwinter’s head for writing a book that almost single handedly was responsible for the renaissance of necromancy throughout Faerun in the past decade or so. And the fact that Kravitz was the grim reaper assigned to collect this bounty, along with Sildar’s soul. That did kind of put a damper on their relationship.

Now, Kravitz considered himself a professional. He had been around a while, had had his fair share of strange cases. Those were what he was good at, and those were what he liked. So when almost every necromancer in the last 10 years was found in possession of the same book,  _ The Planar Connection _ , his interest was piqued. Who was this man, whose theories influenced virtually every other necromancer who'd read them? Who was Sildar Hallwinter?

So Kravitz had taken it upon himself to hunt this mysterious author down himself. Except, it actually was super hard to find him. For some reason, no one seemed to know who he was, let alone where to find him. Even when he interrogated all of the necromancers who owned a copy, none of them had any of the information he wanted. It’s like the man never even existed before this book came out.

It was an accident that he’d finally found him, to be honest. On a field trip to the mortal plane, Kravitz found himself in a public market, wandering between booths and taking in the feeling of being among so many people, when he came across what appeared to be a man giving a small impromptu performance on a public piano. He was immediately drawn in by the man’s sharp ear, playing a tune that Kravitz was unfamiliar with, but which made him feel safe and happy in a way that he hadn’t felt since he was alive, and even then he felt it rarely. After he finished, the pianist left quickly, seemingly embarrassed by the applause from the surrounding crowd. Kravitz was about to move on until he heard in passing, the name “Hallwinter.” He whirled on the two merchants who were discussing it, and one short intimidation roll later, he learned that the man who came into town once every few months for supplies, and who always stopped to play the piano before he left again, and who Kravitz had just stood by for literally four whole minutes before letting him go, was none other than Sildar fucking Hallwinter. 

After that, it was still surprisingly difficult to get a hold of the guy. Kravitz had tried tracking him down, but no one knew where he lived. He waited in the market for him to show up again, but his target always seemed to slip right through his fingers every time. The two had really only met once before, when Kravitz finally cornered him by a fruit stand, and he was about to begin reading him his rights when Sildar had actually stopped him, asking if they could continue this conversation sometime when he didn’t have fresh milk he needed to get somewhere cold. Kravitz was so shocked at the brevity of the request that he actually, unthinkingly, let him go —  that had been a rather low point for him.

Still, he finally managed to follow him from the market to the cave he lived in. He started the arrest again, only to be thrown off by Sildar offering him tea. And later, scones. This happened… more times than Kravitz would care to admit. Screw him, he liked Sildar, okay? Aside from the necromancy thing, he really did seem like an amicable guy, and Kravitz had been a pretty lone wolf since becoming a reaper. He didn’t usually get educated conversation from the people he was trying to arrest, let alone tea and scones. Plus, he figured that because he knew where Sildar resided, he could afford to put off the actual arrest for a while.

Until the time came for him to actually arrest Sildar, only to be completely blindsided yet again when Sildar didn’t seem to have a goddamn idea what he was talking about. This was different from his other cases, as well — most people knew that there was no point in denying anything, and some even reveled in taking credit for what they’d done. Which is why he found himself pretty convinced by Sildar’s insistence that he wasn’t guilty, even when Kravitz had explained the evidence in detail, bringing the book along for proof. Which is how they got to where they were now — both parties acknowledged the reasoning behind Sildar being suspected for breaking the laws of the universe, but Sildar seemed genuinely innocent, and dammit, Kravitz believed his earnesty.

Sildar flipped open the book Kravitz had given him as part of his demonstration. He skimmed through the pages before giving a hum of success, and shut the book with finality. “I really have no idea why it all adds up, but the fact of the matter is I couldn’t have written this book.”

“Why not?” Kravitz retorted, crossing his arms.

“Because I was living in an assisted living home due to a severe case of memory loss when this book was published.”

Kravitz eyes widened. “What?”

“Yeah, check it out,” he offered, holding the book out for him. Kravitz took it, perhaps a little rougher than he meant, and opened it to the page Sildar had indicated. It was near the front, where there would normally be publication information. Of course, no legitimate publishing company would have produced a text like this, but whoever had it prepared for printing had included some of the original notes that were used to create the study, all of which were dated at almost a decade ago.

“I just showed up in some village one day, and all I knew was my name. And you can verify that with so many people, so don't even act like I'm lying about it,” Sildar continued, pushing his glasses up his nose indignantly.

“But,” Kravitz stammered, mind working fast, “but, okay, so what if you wrote the book and then forgot about it?”

Sildar shrugged. “I mean, of course it’s possible, but honestly I would never write a whole book about this. I mean, I’m just some guy. I don’t think I have any formal experience in writing academic texts — hell, I barely had any experience reading them.”

While he talked, Kravitz traced his finger down the page. He stopped suddenly, reading the handwritten scrawl that allegedly came direct from the author themselves. Then he read another handwritten scrawl — with a different handwriting.

“Sildar,” he interrupted. “Lemme bounce this off you.”

Sildar stopped, looked at the reaper, then leaned on the wall good naturedly. “Hit me with it.”

Kravitz breathed deeply. “Alright. So let’s say you’ve got some amateur ideas about necromancy — nothing that you would try yourself, of course,” he added at Sildar’s defensive look, “so you write down some ideas here and there. Then,” he stood up, pacing around the room, “something happens — an accident, or however you lost your memory, and these notes leave your possession.”

“Then!” Kravitz continued, presenting himself like a defense attorney, “someone else finds them. Someone a little less, uh — ” he gestured vaguely, “mentally stable, or morally conflicted. So they find all these notes, add a few additions of their own, put ‘em together, and starts circulating.”

“And to keep their hands clean, they publish the whole thing under the original author’s name: Sildar Hallwinter.” He finished triumphantly, falling back down on his rock.

Again, there was silence in the cave as two men stared at each other. Finally, it was broken by something — Sildar, clapping.

“That,” he said, pushing himself off of the wall, “was amazing. Truly. Really captivating. Did you do any acting while you were alive?”

Kravitz grinned, a little sheepishly. “Ah, well, you know… just some community theater. Nothing big. But, uh, but what did you think about my theory?”

Sildar hummed thoughtfully. “Well, it’s certainly possible. And if it’s true, then I don’t think I should be held accountable. I may have a theory or two about necromantic practices, but I certainly didn’t publish or distribute them to other, less stable scientists.”

“Are you a scientist, then?” Kravitz asked, more out of curiosity than as part of his interrogation.

He wasn’t prepared for a flash of something strange across Sildar’s face- half panic, half confusion, like he had tried to come up for air while swimming and found himself suddenly drowning.

“I — I don’t — no, no I’m not a scientist. I don’t know why I said that,” he stammered awkwardly. Neither responded for a moment, letting the silence hold just a beat too long before Kravitz stood up with a flourish.

“Well, Mr. Hallwinter, I… owe you an apology,” he said haltingly. “Simply writing these texts would not be enough to incriminate you for anything, if you even wrote them in the first place. And I agree that you should not be held responsible for how popular they’ve gotten in the necromantic community. I suppose I should have asked for your side of the story before I assumed that you were responsible for this.”

Sildar relaxed at hearing that he would not be taken away to ghost jail. “Oh hey man, it’s cool. You were just doing your job, I get it. I mean, we all got bills to pay, ya know?”

“Yeah,” Kravitz said. “Actually, no. I serve under the Raven Queen, and she doesn’t really charge me rent.”

“Oh, no, I get that,” Sildar said. “I was kinda speaking rhetorically. I mean, I live in this cave, so…”

“Right, right,” Kravitz replied, nodding. “Well, I guess I gotta get going.”

He turned toward the entrance of the cave, but stopped suddenly. Sildar looked at him questioningly.

“Sorry, it’s not you, it’s just,” Kravitz explained, sighing in frustration. “I’m just… feeling a lot of weird… energy, right now. Like — lich energy.”

“Oh, yeah, a lot of liches live around here,” Sildar replied nonchalantly. At Kravitz’s increasingly frustrated expression, he shrugged.

“What? I’m just being honest. And what’re you gonna do, go knock on every door asking if you can inspect people’s souls to make sure they aren’t supposed to be in the astral plane? Nice try. Come back with a warrant, cop,” he joked.

Kravitz resisted giving a long suffering sigh. He was right, technically- there did need to be reasonable belief before he was allowed to fully investigate for liches. Otherwise he could be filed against for discrimination, and there’d be a bunch of paperwork, and it would be a whole thing. Unfortunately, it was probably better to let sleeping dogs lie — for now.

“Goodbye, Sildar,” he said instead, leaving the cave fully to go out toward the night. The moon was bright enough to illuminate him as he made his way from the cave, holding  _ The Planar Connection _ in front of him. He flipped back open to the page with the original notes, tracing the scribbled writing in pencil. Then his finger drifted to a different kind of markings — little commentary all over the page, both actual helpful scientific input and little crude stick figure drawings, in what appeared to be in bright purple gel pen. At the top, there was a piece of evidence so jarring, Kravitz was almost ashamed at how long it took him to find it.

It was a note, written in looping, purple handwriting, and surrounded by hearts, stars, and smiley faces:  _ Property of Barold J. Bluejeans. _

__

Kravitz smiled. “All right, Mr. Bluejeans,” he said. “Where are you?”

__

**Author's Note:**

> find me at olliedollie1204.tumblr.com so you can watch me scream about taz


End file.
